Immortal Beloved
by EmeraldRomance
Summary: For twenty years, Sarah has counted eighteen candles on her birthday cake, never knowing why such a gift was given to her, nor why the man who bestowed it has remained silent to her call. Will he finally answer when the gift is in danger of being stolen?
1. Pop Culture Blues

**Disclaimer:** Labyrinth and all it's wonderful characters and settings do not belong to me. Neither do the other works of fiction referenced in this chapter and in future updates. Locations in NY are based off actual places, though I do take creative license. I make no profit from this story.

**This story is rated M for language and impending violence and adult content.**

**Chapter 1 – Pop Culture Blues**

"I don't care what you say; Brad Pitt has to be the sexiest man ever to set foot on this earth! He can sink fangs into me anytime he wants!"

"No way! I'd take Tom Cruise over him any day. Besides, Louis is the most pathetic vampire I've ever seen! What about you Sar?"

My footsteps faltered slightly as the toe of my shiny black boots dislodged a piece of the crumbling sidewalk. I'd only been following the conversation of my current friends half-heartedly and was somewhat unprepared when they addressed me directly.

"Oh um, I guess Le Stat. Always preferred blondes," I muttered quietly. If only they knew what an understatement that was.

The wet pavement glowed almost supernaturally from the reflection of the theater lights and the line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot; the vehicular parade somewhat denser than it usually was on our Friday night movie-going ritual. Not that I was all that surprised; it was after all the day before Halloween, so it was only natural for the Cineplex to try and cash in on the holiday with some festive horror movies, not that I found our particular pick for the evening all that scary. Although, I suppose I was a bit curious as to why that had been the theater's selection at all, seeing as it had been out of the theaters for sixteen years. If they were so hell-bent on resurrecting what they termed 'classic' thrillers from the past, wouldn't one of the obligatory Halloween camp villains – Jason, Michael, Freddy – have been the more logical choice?

"Sarah? What the hell? It's like you're not even here!" Mallory whined as she grabbed my elbow a second before a black SUV careened around the corner of the building and straight over the bit of pavement I was about to step on to.

"Sorry. I was lost in my head," I tried for a laugh, flashing my practiced jovial grin on my two companions. "What were you guys saying?"

Mallory narrowed her eyes, but true to form did not bother to interrogate my mood any further. "Well, Emma was just commenting about Claudia-"

"Yeah! That part where she chops off all her hair always gives me the creeps! Imagine being stuck as a little girl forever!"

I laughed again, hoping they did not catch the edge of nervousness seeping into it. "Yeah, that would seriously suck."

As they erupted into happy giggles of their own at my terrible pun and navigated through the lot towards Emma's silver Toyota, I once again found my feet dragging. You see, I didn't have to imagine what it would be like to be Claudia. I never had to wonder about the horror of one day waking up to discover that if you tried to cut your hair, it would just grow back, or that no matter what you ate, or how many miles you ran, your body wouldn't change, or that you'd never be able to make any sort of meaningful tie to another human being because sooner or later they'd start to wonder why you never looked a day older. I didn't have to wonder because it _is_ my life.

My name is Sarah Catherine Williams – Smith – Jones – Morgan. I've never been married, never even had a boyfriend, not to mention a lasting best friend, and despite my appearance, I will soon be turning that dreaded number of forty in a few months. But that is not the story my cake will tell. No, it will bear eighteen candles, just as it has for nearly twenty years, because ever since my real eighteenth birthday, the clock has seemed to stop for me. I didn't realize it at first, but one hour after that first post-birthday trip to the salon when the ten inches I'd boldly chopped from my long brown hair suddenly sprouted back into place, I began to wonder. By the time my twenty-first birthday rolled around an embarrassing slide show prepared by my step-mother revealed – to my eyes at least – that my face had not changed _at all_ in three years. Not even a new freckle.

For awhile I tried to compensate by dressing differently, styling my hair up, and plastering my face with make-up, but it wasn't long after that slide show that people began looking at me funny. So, at twenty-six, I adopted my first false identity and moved across the country, only to repeat the process two more times in the years following. I haven't been back to Connecticut since and for all I know, my family thinks I'm dead.

I surveyed the two legitimate teenagers chatting incessantly in the seats in front of me. Mallory with her straight dyed red hair that fell to the middle of her back, and Emma with the current bob-style framing her heart-shaped face in a variety of golden tones. I'd met them as co-workers at a record store in a suburb of Rochester, New York. They were nice enough, but I found them dull and superficial, just like all my teenage friends inevitably turned out to be. I bit back a snarl as my thoughts once again thought about what my working life had been reduced to. One menial, pointless job after another. Funny enough, it was hard to find a grown-up job when you couldn't in fact grow up! Not to mention having to re-establish your whole life every five years or so. No, it just wasn't as easy as those Twilight vampires made it out to be.

I sighed wearily to myself and rested my cheek against the cool glass of the car window. The stereo blared some up-tempo dance song about disco sticks that seemed to have been on a constant playlist for over a year, providing me an effective cover-up as to why I was not participating in the conversation happening in the front of the car. It was easy to slip into this self-pitying melancholy. While I had dealt with mourning over a future that would never be quite some time ago, it occasionally reared its ugly head. Maybe it was the theme of the movie, or the slight chill in the damp air – so reminiscent of that fateful night which had started this whole twisted reality in the first place – regardless, I couldn't help but wonder what the whole point of this _existence_ was.

I wiped an errant tear from my cheek angrily, refusing to sink so low as to cry over my fate and the role _that man_ had played in it. It certainly didn't take a genius to figure out that if I was suddenly living the life of an immortal, chances were very good it was the result of something done by another immortal. And lucky me, I met one when I was fifteen, even ate one of his damned peaches! Not that knowing, or at least suspecting, what made me this way did any good. I still had no clue as to why he did it, or what the hell I was supposed to do with eternal life living in the mortal realm? Or why my aging stopped so suddenly at eighteen – three years after my trip to Faery?

Maybe it was all the unanswered questions that kept the wound of what my life had become too easily accessible. I knew I should just thoroughly accept my fate and move on. Hell, I'm sure mankind probably thought I was a nutter. I should be shouting my glee of living forever to the rooftops and finding something meaningful to do with all my time! Right?

Perhaps I was a Louis girl after all. Even if he _wasn't_ blonde with haunting mismatched blue eyes and a grin so arrogant, so sexy, that it was impossible to forget.

"Hey! Em and I want to swing by that new club at the north end of Lake Ave. Want to join?" Mallory's excited smile looked positively predatory in the darkness of the car as she turned her head to call back to me.

The thought of clubbing in my current state of mind was comparable to asking a hypochondriac to take a quick tour of a hospital. But, I rationalized, the clubs off Lake were in fact right _by_ the lake, and a moonlit stroll on the pier did appeal to me. Sure it was almost November, but things like colds just didn't affect me anymore. Besides, I was told it was unseasonably warm for this time of year.

"Um, yeah sure," I sat up a little straighter, my mind silently rejoicing at the promise of open air and lake breezes, no matter how chilly.

"Sweet!" Mallory fist-pumped the air before turning around to begin grinding against her seat in tempo to the music. Emma soon joined in, waving her arms back and forth and steering the car with her knee.

I refrained from shaking my head in disapproval, or maybe confusion was a better word choice. Yet another frustrating side effect of whatever _he'd_ done. Clearly looking the part was no guarantee that I'd want to act the part too. Have you any idea how frustrating it is to be middle-aged and stuck in the proverbial pop culture generation?

I know what you're thinking; why don't I just summon the bastard and demand some answers? Demand that he does that freaky time manipulation thing and send me back to live my life properly? Don't you think I _have_ tried that? I have tried every variation of "I wish the Goblin King would come speak to me, right now!" that I can think of, but it never worked. And that mirror he so kindly enchanted which allowed me to see my Labyrinth friends suspiciously stopped working on my eighteenth birthday. After a decade or so, I stopped trying to summon any of them, convinced now that this is just another game to him, and unwillingly to be his pawn ever again.

The sudden opening of the car door had me nearly tumbling to the ground. "What the hell!" I exclaimed angrily, my heart pounding with shock.

"Chillax! We're here chica. Now, are you gonna sit there all night or are you gonna come par-tay!" Mallory grabbed my hand and helped me stumble to my feet.

"Oh, actually I thought I'd take a walk, clear my head a little," I flashed that grin again, still surprised even after all these years that people thought it was sincere. My eyes quickly scanned the night to see we were in fact just across the street from Ontario Beach Park.

"Are you crazy? You could get killed or something," Emma murmured uncomfortably.

If only. "I'll be fine. Just a quick walk, I promise."

"But it's like, almost midnight, Sar…" Emma's blue eyes pleaded softly. I admit; I was a bit touched by her concern. But then, she _was_ the nicer of the pair.

"Oh whatever! Go if you want to, just don't come crying to us when you get mugged!"

"Mallory!"

The girl in question turned innocent brown eyes on the nicer friend. "What? Sarah's a big girl. If she prefers freezing her ass off walking some shitty old pier, that's her prerogative."

And with that, she stomped off towards the entrance of the club, Emma in tow.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and relished the strangely calming scent of Lake Ontario, strange because not many would find the pungent tang of seaweed pleasant. But then, I was hardly most people. Since moving to Rochester, this had become a sanctuary of sorts for me. I walked the pier at least three or four times a week, never tiring of the perfect serenity I felt at the very end when all I could see was open water, and depending on the time of day, stars in their multitudes, the soft purple of descending twilight, or the brilliant azure blue sky.

The park was not surprisingly deserted. I shoved my gloveless hands into the pockets of my wool peacoat as I walked, thought I wasn't all that cold. The light breeze still held traces of the rain from earlier that evening, and whispered loudly thought the sparse leaves of the autumn trees. The melancholy which had attacked me in the car all but dissolved away as my footsteps drew me nearer to my favorite path – one that would take me straight over the water, with a Great Lake to my left and the end of the Genesee River on my right. In the daylight, you could see the two waters mixing – brown and blue, just like…

I would not think of _him_ again! At least, that's what I always tried to tell myself. It hardly ever did any good. Could you imprison the memory of someone who once terrified and delighted you at the same time? Someone who offered you your dreams in exchange for your baby brother, only to turn around and essentially profess his love – whether it was real or not – to you?

By the time I'd realized what he'd done to my lifespan, I'd also realized that with a few years under my belt, and without the threat of Toby's possible goblin transformation looming over my head, I would gladly have accepted his offer. There was something about him that called to my soul, even only knowing him for a few hours, but those feelings had become moot when he'd refused to answer even one of my summons. Now, the thought of him smirking and laughing, maybe even spying on my in all my frozen misery just made me hate him even more than I ever would have loved him.

Another tear trickled down my cheek. I growled and scrubbed the offending moisture from my face. "I don't care about you!" I cried to the empty night. Only, it wasn't so empty.

A deep chuckle sounded too close for comfort from behind me. "Well, that's a shame, darlin' but don't matter none to me."

I spun on my heel to observe a large, hulking body not two feet away from me, his face obscured in the darkness, though his balding head seemed to reflect the moonlight. A wave of stale beer and urine assaulted my nose, so offensive that it threatened my gag reflex. I took a step backwards instinctively, but one of his thick fingered mitts reached across the space and grasped the edge of my coat, tugging me forward until our faces nearly touched.

Slowly, he brought his other hand around so I could see the object clasped tightly in his grip. The sound in tandem with the sight made the realization of the switchblade so much worse than it probably was. My breath hitched in my throat. Sure, I'd morosely lamented about my lot in life too many times to count, but I didn't really want to die…did I?

He dragged the blade of the knife across my cheek. "You certainly are a pretty little thing. Don't you know it's dangerous to walk alone at night, girly?"

"Just let me go. Here, take my purse," I practically shoved the thing at him, a bit surprised that I could even function to move.

He cackled, releasing his breath into my face. It was all I could do not to vomit. "All in good time," his eyes roved over me. "You know, I'm beginning to think this is my lucky night." His hand released my jacket and moved upwards to squeeze my breast roughly. I gasped at the pain and the intrusion, tears falling freely now.

Some part of my brain was telling me to scream. Surely someone would come, the clubs weren't that far, and there was almost always a squad car lurking nearby. But my voice refused to do anything but beg. "Please, just let me go. Don't hurt me," I began silently praying to the God I was sure had long ago forsaken aberrations like me.

"There, there, darlin', don't cry. Big Mike make it so sweet for you…" He dragged us into the gazebo near the path and pushed me down onto the bench, raising himself up to look anxiously around for any witnesses. He turned back to me with a grin. "Looks like it's just you and me."

As he lowered over my trembling body, taking my hands into a death grip and raising them above my head, my voice finally broke free, shrieking into the night to mix with the breeze I'd found charming just moments ago and the gently rolling waves of the lake. "Jareth! I need you, right now!"

* * *

A/N: My muse has been a bit quiet on ADKOV, so while waiting patiently for it to spark again, I've been working on other things. This idea popped into my head while I was marching away on the treadmill to my DB playlist. I know the 'conflict' at the end of the chapter is a bit overdone, but hope you will stick with me anyways, that is of course, if any of you think it is even worthwhile to continue...just lemme know:)


	2. Showdown at the Not OK Corral

**Chapter 2 – Showdown at the Not OK Corral**

The whoosh of air as the offensive blob salivating over my face was suddenly flung aside – hitting one of the support beams of the gazebo with a sickening crack – swirled my dark hair over my eyes like a blindfold. Frantically, I shoved the unruly strands behind my ears and scuttled back to the far end of the bench, tucking my legs up in a position that would hopefully allow me to spring off and away at a second's notice if necessary. Though, I wondered if my pounding heart would have the strength to grant me even one more beat as my eyes connected with my would be hero.

In the near blackness of midnight, under the cover of the wooden roof, it was difficult to make out the details of the flurry of movement in front of me, but I knew. There was simply no mistaking that pale gold hair, not even after two decades.

His arm cocked back, fist clenched around the riding crop he so favored, with murderous intent written all over his fine features. My breath hitched in confusion. How was he here after all this time? Why did he care so much?

"You were supposed to startle her; nothing more. How dare you put your disgusting, filthy paws on her?" The riding crop sliced through the air and lashed the man across the face.

That snooty aristocratic voice washed over me with the same sense of fulfillment as prime rib to a starving man. My faded memories had never truly done it justice. But somehow, the words themselves managed to infiltrate the haze of my shock. _Supposed to startle her…what the hell?_

I stood slowly, keeping both men in my sight as I backed towards the other opening of the gazebo. Though, I really should've known it was foolish to try and slip away from a Fae.

One long-fingered, black leather-clad hand raised sharply in the universal symbol of 'stop'. "Wait, Sarah," his voice commanded without actually turning to face me. His attention remained fixed on the miscreant at his feet, and I watched with fearful fascination as that same hand rolled elegantly and plucked a crystalline sphere from thin air. Pulse absolutely thundering now, I attempted to step backwards again, but my feet were firmly cemented to the concrete floor.

I opened my mouth to protest my entrapment, but anything I might've said was quickly cut-off by the inhuman wail of terror emanating from my 'friend', Big Mike, as he slouched against the post. Black blood trickled down his already grimy cheeks, mixing with the flow of tears. "I..I sorry yer majesty, I swears I is."

"Sorry are you? Yes, I suppose you are. But not nearly as sorry as you will be." With the simple flick of a wrist, my rescuer threw the sphere at the man, hitting him squarely in the chest.

I should've been more focused on the dialogue between the two men, but I was too distracted by the scene before me. I began choking on air as I watched my attacker's body bend and twist in a gruesome sort of distortion, slimy fluid oozing from the gashes appearing all over his flesh. It seemed his limbs were actually folding in on themselves and knotty growths appeared on his skin. But worse were the torturous screams escaping his throat and the panicked expression in his eyes. I simultaneously wanted to vomit and rejoice, feeling both horrified by his punishment and vindicated. Within a few seconds, the hulking thug had been transformed into one of the ugliest goblins I'd ever seen.

I looked back at the man now towering over the gnarled creature, expecting…I didn't know what exactly…but I gasped again as a beam of moonlight broke through the clouds and filled the small space, settling on him like a spotlight.

Before me stood the stuff of nightmares, although in my warped nut-job perception, the stuff of my deepest desires was a better description. The Goblin King, resplendent in his black leather armor with his shimmering cape which could've contained the very moonbeams which illuminated him, stood regally with closed fists propped against his hips. His expression and general countenance were so similar to the first moment he'd appeared in the nursery some twenty odd years ago that I could do nothing but gape at him as an inconvenient blush spread over my face. Had he actually been looking at me in that moment, I would've been highly embarrassed at my reaction.

The goblin suddenly threw its body at the king's booted feet. "Pleaze, yer majesty, not the Bog, anythin', pleaze."

_Your Majesty? The Bog? Supposed to startle her…_All the errant puzzle pieces were beginning to fit themselves together in my brain as the vicious joke continued to play out before my eyes. "You…you know each other? This…this was all some sort of…_set-up_?"

The horrible little goblin peeked from around the leg he'd been groveling at. A wicked grin mostly devoid of teeth – save a few blackened stumps in the front – spread across his face. "Of course I knows my king. Lady not really so stupid?"

He grunted and curled into a ball as the king's foot connected harshly with his stomach. "That is quite enough out of you, Miko. You're quite fortunate that you achieved the desired result of our little charade this evening else you should not even be breathing right now. But, mark my words; there will be consequences for your…_enthusiasm_."

Somehow, the sneer sounded petulant when spoken in his cultured voice; so primitive…or possessive. But that couldn't be right?

With a careless wave of a hand, the goblin man vanished without so much as a trace of the blood and gore he'd been covered in; leaving the park once again deserted except for me and…the Goblin King.

I swallowed thickly but held my ground as the imposing figure slowly turned to finally look at me. "Hello Sarah."

If my life had been a movie this would've been the moment the film switched into slow motion. The cameras would close in on his perfect face; soft lighting – perhaps some kind of manufactured moonlight – would highlight his sculpted cheek bones, his sensuous lips, his glorious but unruly mane of hair, and his penetrating unearthly eyes. Perhaps he would smile gallantly and I would blush and run to his arms, and we would both profess how miserable we'd been all these years without each other.

But this was no movie. And though several of those details proved themselves true – he did smile, though smirk was a better description, and he was ethereally gorgeous, as always – there would be no happy reunion found on this shore tonight.

"How did that _thing_ know you?" I whispered with an eerie calm that unnerved even me.

"He is unfortunately one of my subjects. Vile little creature. I do apologize for his advances on your person and I assure you he will be severely punished." His tone was so civil, so pleasant, as if we'd only parted last week, not last century! His eyes held traces of amusement and…was that triumph? And his smile; still so fucking arrogant despite everything that had happened in the past and the events of tonight. It was simply more than the riotous beast tethered in my soul could bear.

"Jesus Christ! It's been twenty fucking years! You show up all cocky, all _tra la la _'hello Sarah' with your smug little grin…Why tonight? What is so goddamn special about tonight? I've called to you so many times…" I forced my voice to stop talking as my words began taking on a tone of desperation. Tears of anger and hurt formed tiny droplets on my lashes, like diamonds, or...crystal spheres. I turned away so he couldn't see, holding my breath in an attempt to calm the spiraling emotions within me.

The weight of his hands on my shoulders caused my spine to stiffen. "Sarah…" he whispered.

Jumping away, I turned with a snarl, "No! You don't get to touch me!"

He sighed, which only served to infuriate me more. How _dare_ he act as if I was being ridiculous? How _dare_ he assume I'd want any sort of comfort from him?

"Because you are being ridiculous and strangely the words "I need you, Jareth," sort of imply a desire for some kind of comfort."

Shit. Had I really said that out loud? My eyes narrowed as I turned back to face him. "You didn't answer my earlier question; why now? And don't give me any bull-shit about right words. I tried them all, and not just with you," I said, voice suddenly much lower and even, thinking about my lost connection to everyone from the Underground.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "It is not so much the words as the timing, precious."

Have you ever wanted to kill someone? I mean literally cause them serious physical harm to match the blinding rage coursing through your veins? Yeah, anger management so doesn't work on me. "Spare me the convoluted mysterious Fae crap and answer the damn question!"

He tsked and stepped closer to me. "My, my; little Sarah has developed quite the temper in her old age."

"Old age. Right. And here I thought your kind could see well in the dark," I mocked.

He actually had the nerve to fight back a grin!

"Yes, well, even in the most pitch black your beauty would shine like a thousand suns," he murmured silkily and stepped closer again, his lithe body now only two or so feet away from me.

I stared at him silently as I gritted my teeth, suddenly remembering my oath to myself not to participate in anymore games he saw fit to grace me with. Instead, I concentrated on the opportunity at hand; that after all this time, he was finally here and he _would_ answer my damn questions.

I relaxed my stance in an effort to appear completely unmoved by his pretty words or his proximity. "Timing, huh? Why, is this some special day in your kingdom?"

"Yes, precious; just as it is in yours," he grinned widely.

A bit of my put-upon airs deflated in confusion. "What's so special about October 30th?"

"Absolutely nothing. But October 31st…"

My wrist shot up before my eyes almost of its own volition. The clock face clearly read 12:37am. So it was Halloween after all.

"Yes, Sarah. It's all clicking into place now isn't it? All Hallows Eve, when the veils between the worlds are at their thinnest and all forms of creatures can cross over onto the mortal plain." He circled the small space as he spoke, and I was so stunned at the realization of what he was saying that I didn't notice he had stopped behind me until his words whispered warmly into my ear, "Twenty-three years and you never considered summoning me on Samhain. To say I was disappointed would be putting it mildly."

I gasped loudly as sharp teeth nipped at my earlobe before pulling away and turning to face him. "But…how….you?" I couldn't form a coherent thought as I took in his suddenly much darker expression.

He examined one gloved hand nonchalantly as he began to speak. "You know, I really don't understand you, Sarah. I suppose after much thought I was able to forgive your rejection – after all; family loyalty is important – but I was never convinced that you meant it. So, despite the rules forbidding any further interaction with you, I provided you with the means to make amends and then was forced to watch as you paraded those imbeciles into your room night after night but never once thought to call to me."

He settled his gaze on mine and I had to fight to breathe over the look in his eyes. The beast inside was beginning to whine uncomfortably at the wash of sorrow pouring through me. Sure, I tried to convince myself I was long over any soft feelings for him, but I knew they had just been buried beneath my rage.

With a move so quick I couldn't even register it he swept towards me and wrapped his hands around my upper arms in a vise-like grip. "Why, Sarah? When you had already won, why did you not call me back?"

"I did! I called to you almost every single day for ten years!" I cried hopelessly.

He smiled, but it never reached his beautiful eyes. "But not the right years."

More cryptic bull-shit! I tested the bonds of his grip, realizing immediately that I wouldn't be going anywhere unless he wanted me to, and mustered as much fortitude as I could. "Look; it's obvious we're both working under a different set of understanding, and it's getting late and cold, so do you think you could just give me a straight answer?"

His head tilted again and he slowly dropped his hands and stepped back. "Forgive me, precious. Perhaps we should take this discussion to a much more comfortable setting."

"Can't you just tell me what you want and leave?" I grumbled, rubbing at the places on my arms I was sure would be bruised in the morning.

He laughed wryly. "I shall grant one of your requests. I want _you_, but I have no intentions of leaving."

A chill that had nothing to do with the fall weather struck at my heart. "I'm not going back with you," I whispered, though I was sure he could hear the tremble in my voice.

Lifting one sweeping brow he replied, "No? Well, we shall see." He smiled in his pleased sort of way and offered me his arm. "Come. Let me return us to your home where we can continue this discussion."

"But my friends…" I turned in the direction of the strip of restaurants and clubs beyond the park.

"Friends?" He scoffed. "The same friends who allowed a beautiful young woman to walk alone into a park at midnight? Yes, how is young Mallory doing?"

"She's in on this too?" I growled. "It wasn't enough to get me almost raped, you had to, what, _glamour_ my friends into doing your bidding?"

He snorted rather inelegantly. "Hardly. Imagine my delight when I discovered you'd befriended one of my previous runners; one who so conveniently still owes me quite a debt and who has not yet turned eighteen despite what her identification may say."

Without warning, the fury rose in me again so sharply that I felt my nails cut into the skin of my closed fists. Though I did not have all the information, it was clear that willing or not, I _was_ some pawn in another of his schemes. This whole night – no, apparently the last few months – of my false existence had somehow all been orchestrated to suit whatever whim he had his mind set on. I had been crazy to think I'd ever get answers from him. He couldn't even tell me in plain terms why he'd never answered my summons, did I really expect him to explain my immortality? For that matter, could I really spend another two decades wondering when, or even if he would ever grace me with his presence again? And if he did, what new twisted game would he be playing then?

His face softened, almost as if he could hear the inner conflict rambling in my brain. Hell, maybe he could. Maybe it was some weird sire/slave thing; not that I would ever be his slave. "Sarah, please. We still have much to discuss. Do not do anything you will regret."

My eyes drank him in hungrily as if they knew this might be the last time I allowed them to see him. He was beautiful, no doubt about it, and some deep part of me wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and never let go. Head versus heart and all that. But hadn't I already made that choice once before?

The words were on my tongue without even a conscious thought. "You have no-"

Lips of silken steel crashed down upon mine before I could finish my statement. A voice filled with equal parts mirth and anger whispered intimately through my mind. _"Oh precious thing, how very wrong you are."_

* * *

**A/N**: "shine like a thousand suns" borrowed from the song Dark Waltz, sung by Hayley Westenra...gorgeous song that really suits Labby fics IMO. (As does Across the Universe of Time)

So, just a comment about the trials of writing - I had intended to try and resolve this showdown in this chapter, but as usual Jareth was not willing to be all that forthcoming, and wanted to needle Sarah more than comfort her. Do you other Labby authors have that same problem?

This is only the beginning of the 'revelatory' part of the fic...Anyhoo, hope you are enjoying it. Thanks for the reviews/alerts/favorites...y'all are awesome! Keep 'em coming please :D


End file.
